Everyone says I’m lucky to become the esteemed Mrs. Webster of the prominent Webster Family. But I don’t see it that way. My current situation was bought with my father’s life.
In that car accident, he sacrificed himself to save elder Mr. Webster, and in his final moments, he tearfully pleaded with the Webster family to take good care of my mother and me. Mr. Webster kept his promise. However, from then on, Aaron’s attitude toward me became extremely hostile.
At first, it was cold and dismissive, which gradually evolved into mockery and verbal abuse. I never understood what I did wrong. Was loving him really a mistake?
Eventually, I stopped trying to speak to him directly and could only quietly care for him, taking notes for him and bringing him breakfast. Then, a girl named Freya appeared in Aaron’s life. I knew better than to intrude.
Three years ago, Freya went abroad for further studies and broke up with Aaron. That night, he drank himself into a stupor, lost his way, and stumbled into my room. He held me tightly, and I trembled, too afraid to push him away. This was his home, and everything here belonged to him. If I refused—would my mother and I be thrown out?
Fortunately, my fears did not come to pass. Mr. Webster arrived at the sound, pulling Aaron away and making him reflect on his actions.
Soon after, Aaron was forced to marry me. On our wedding night, he slumped wearily on the sofa, his eyes red.
He asked me, "Cynthia, do you want to drive me to my death?"
I didn’t understand his meaning. As I tried to question him, he seized my throat and pushed me onto the soft bed. Warm liquid splashed onto my collar. I thought, perhaps because he couldn’t marry Freya, he hated me even more.
After the wedding, he frequently stayed out all night and rarely came home.
The door swung open, and Aaron fumbled in the dark, unable to find the light switch in the foyer. In the darkness, I heard him calling my name.
"Cynthia."
"Come here and help me with my tie."
There was no response. Growing impatient, he turned on the flashlight on his phone and found the switch. The room was instantly illuminated.
I noticed something different about him tonight and felt intrigued. I sat on the sofa with my arms crossed, watching him.
Aaron pushed open the master bedroom door, but not seeing me, he proceeded to search through the guest room, study, and entertainment room…
Finally, he muttered an exasperated curse and pulled out his phone to text me.
"Where are you?"
"What game are you playing now?"
"I don’t have time for this. Come home."
I noticed with sharp eyes that my contact name was "Honey." How utterly ironic.
Meanwhile, he called the lawyer.
"Cynthia hasn’t signed the divorce papers yet?"
My heart lurched. The lawyer was the first—and only—person to know of my death. If he told Aaron I was dead, what would he do?
Thinking this, I leaned closer to Aaron, nearly pressing my ear to the phone.
The lawyer hesitated, then said slowly, "Mr. Webster, Mrs. Webster has passed away."